


What We Fight to Save

by SugarSpiceandCurseWords



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Finn Needs A Hug, Gen, Poe Dameron Needs A Hug, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, pre-Stormpilot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 03:31:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13673364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarSpiceandCurseWords/pseuds/SugarSpiceandCurseWords
Summary: No one is unscathed.  Everyone is grasping.  Finn and Poe have relied on each other thus far, and even the obliteration of the fleet can't quite shake that bond.





	What We Fight to Save

She walked through the quiet hangar, perfectly balanced on the boundary between present and past. She was more centered than Finn remembered her from their frenzied flight from Jakku; more certain of herself, for both good and ill. Maybe that described him as well. He knew the meager scraps of insight Rey had found into her family had been difficult to hear, but she bore them well, folding near-seamlessly into their embattled group when she chose, standing apart without shame when it suited her. And she was in her element here, among the relics of a prior generation’s Rebellion.

“These are very well preserved,” she said, crouching to examine a portable power cart. “We should be able to get a lot of the equipment running if we cannibalize spare parts from the damaged units. I would have expected more corrosion—I’ve always heard that humidity destroys metal.”

“Poe said the colonists maintain the basic security and infrastructure of the base. Mostly as a museum, but also in case…” Finn offered a small shrug. “In case of _this,_ I guess.”

The decision to come to Yavin IV had not been an easy one. It was certainly plausible that the First Order would start canvassing former Rebellion bases in their search for the remains of the Resistance, and even among those, Yavin loomed large, having slipped through the grip of the Empire once before. But the risk had been balanced by the resources available, as well as the potential for support among the local government. And, possibly, by the desire to recapture a trace of timeworn hope.

They couldn’t afford to stay long, even with the _Falcon_ ’s impressive encryption suite at work. For now, the plan was limited and straightforward: load as many supplies as practical onto the two midrange cruisers General Organa had procured through contacts in the Bespin system, request assistance from the Yavin Colonial Assembly in negotiating alliances with other colonies, and depart for a far more remote location within days.

What they would—could—do after that, Finn still wasn’t sure.

Rey straightened gracefully and surveyed the cavernous space. “Not many operable starfighters, but a lot of the comm gear and maintenance droids will be worth salvaging. I’ll start working with Lieutenant Connix on a priority list.”

“I think I’m supposed to report to her about medical supplies when I visit Rose this evening.”

“How is she?”

“Good. She’s expecting to be cleared for light duties tomorrow.” Finn almost elected to change the subject, then reconsidered. “She, ah, doesn’t remember what she did. The concussion messed with her short-term memory. It’s not a concern, apparently, but she can’t picture the crash.”

Angling her head, Rey studied him. “Does that bother you? That she doesn’t remember doing something so significant for you?”

“I don’t know. Mostly I feel like I know something about her that she isn’t aware of, and I’m not sure what to do with it.” Finn leaned against a dormant console. His back was nearly healed, but standing still for long periods of time seemed to aggravate the regenerated muscles. “There are some aspects of my training that I’m finding awfully hard to unlearn. Interacting with people outside the context of a mission objective feels like such a minefield.” Having come this far, he decided to square up and voice his doubts. “If you—when someone kisses you…what’s the right response? If you’re not sure what it means or what you want it to mean?”

“I’m hardly a good source for such advice.” Rey’s lips twisted wryly. “I do get the sense that many people are quite often unsure about that, though. Do you think you’d want to try it again, under other circumstances?”

And that was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? “I didn’t dislike it, for whatever that’s worth. And she’s amazing, plain and simple. But…I’m not really eager to make it happen again just yet. And I don’t want to hurt her if she feels more strongly about it than I do.”

“I would think that being open about feelings, even uncertain ones, would be the best way to minimize hurt. Honestly, though, it all seems rather messy a lot of the time, no matter where you’re from or what you’re accustomed to.”

“Very reassuring, thanks.” Finn sighed.

Her smile was sympathetic. “You might ask Poe,” she suggested. “Surely he knows a little more about how it all generally works among this type of group.”

Finn didn’t have words to explain how unpleasant that concept sounded. “Poe’s been busy,” he deflected. “The general needs him for the discussions with the Colonial Assembly. They’re his people, after all.”

Poe had indeed been busy, or at least elsewhere, ever since they’d lowered the _Falcon_ ’s gangplank onto the lush green carpet of Yavin’s surface. His father was unfortunately off planet, delivering his recent harvest to a distributor, and they couldn’t risk staying until his return. Poe had brushed off his disappointment, saying he’d visited recently, and Finn hadn’t understood the way General Organa’s features had tightened at the statement.

He and Finn had spoken only rarely over the past two days, when he was directing them toward friendly merchants or asking after everyone’s welfare. And of course he was with the general for much of the time. Still, even when Poe was present, he…wasn’t. Before, Finn had thought him outgoing, thriving on the energy of others, but now he had turned inward, rarely joining in casual conversations or meals.

“You’re worried about him,” Rey observed, reaching for a coiled length of wire from a supply shelf and pocketing it. “So am I, if that’s reasonable. Even when he took me to his family’s home to show me the Force tree, he seemed troubled. More so than the others, I mean. I obviously don’t know him well, but I’m not sure what it would take to ease that.”

”Other than erasing the last few days…I don’t know that there is a way. And I can’t tell if he’s avoiding everyone because he’s angry at himself, or avoiding me more than others because—”

“Surely not.”

“Why not?” Finn pushed up from the console. “Rose and I came up with that insane plan, not him. We convinced him, and he defended it to the last. He led an insurrection for it. Now people are dead. The fleet is dead. And the Resistance is barely holding together.”

“From what I understand, people were going to die no matter what.” Rey’s tone was matter of fact, but not unfeeling. “They were desperate acts. For everyone. We all make choices based on what we feel is right, and sometimes they don’t work, and we live with them regardless.” A note of bitterness crept into her voice. “I’m certainly no different.”

At that, Finn hesitated, but he sensed that she had no desire to continue that line of thought just now.

“I don’t know how to make choices and live with them,” he confessed. “I never made _any_ choices until a few weeks ago, and the first one I made was staggering. But it was _right._ This one wasn’t, and it’s clawing at the back of my mind every time I stop to think about it too hard. Does that get better? Easier? Ever?”

Her response wasn’t an answer. “Go find Poe,” she said simply. “Talk to him. I think you’re both hurting in the same way, and sharing it might help.”

Surrendering, Finn lifted his comlink. “Kaydel, have you seen Poe?”

“Not since early. Stand by, I’ll ask around.” After a few seconds, Kaydel’s voice returned. “C’ai says he went to his dad’s place. Something about another starfighter we may be able to use.”

“Thanks.” Finn raised his eyebrows at Rey. “Want to come along? Commune with the Force tree some more?”

Rey shook her head. “I have work to do. Go.”

He went, borrowing the speeder bike that a handful of them had been sharing for assorted short trips. The Dameron ranch was indeed nearby, around a bend in the lush green valley, so close that he hadn’t yet worked out what he wanted to say to Poe by the time he arrived.

The house looked quiet, but the side door to the barn was ajar. As Finn approached, he could hear occasional astromech commentary from inside. He paused at the doorframe, watching Poe work in quiet concentration. The pilot was elbow-deep in the maintenance access panel of an old RZ-1, presumably exercising long-closed valves in the fuel or hydraulic systems, or checking neglected filters.

BB-8 made a quiet suggestion. “Yeah, that’s next.” Poe sounded weary, and he moved stiffly. “Wire crimpers?” The droid proffered a tool with its pincer arm. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay?” Finn heard his own voice before he registered a desire to speak. Poe startled as well, fumbling the tool.

“Hey, buddy.” The sudden lightness in Poe’s tone didn’t align with the tightness in his features. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Back on your feet for about half a second before getting into _another_ hardcore duel and then a ski-speeder crash?”

“Says the guy who got blown halfway across the hangar bay.”

“And then stun-blasted.” Poe’s mouth twisted oddly, as if smirking at something he didn’t find at all funny. “I’m fine. Wanted a break from the negotiations and figured my mom would’ve told me to use this thing against some TIEs rather than just let it rust here. It’s one more fighter than we have right now, anyway.”

“Yeah.” Finn stepped fully into the open space, committing himself to the conversation. “Can you do me a favor, though? Don’t say you’re fine. I need people to be straight with me, and that’s obviously not true.”

Poe’s expression faltered, and he seemed to wilt. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Is it any better if I’m trying to _make_ it true?”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

The silence and the slump of his shoulders was answer enough. He reached down to retrieve the wire tool from BB-8 again, and Finn’s gaze fell on his bare wrist, marked with fading scars. Poe followed his gaze. “Feels like a standard year ago, doesn’t it? Not sure I completely believe that I was just here last month.”

“You were?”

“Not for long, but yeah. This is where I stashed my ship during the mission to Jakku. Apparently I only come home when things are going to hell.”

Finn took a seat on a nearby crate. “I was wondering if you’re getting any more sleep than I am, but I think I can figure that out for myself. So now I’m wondering if talking about…everything…would help.” He steeled his nerves. “I understand if you’re angry with me.”

“With you?” Surprised, Poe set his task aside. “Not a chance. I’m angry at myself, because it turns out I’m terrible at being objective when it comes to you, but that’s not in any way your fault.”

Finn wasn’t sure how to interpret that, so he sidestepped it. “If Rose and I hadn’t thought we could do more than we turned out to be capable of—”

“Rose is a kid who’d just lost her sister. You’d had about five minutes’ worth of experience with exercising free will. I was the senior officer and I’ve had free will my entire life. Who was really supposed to be the voice of reason here?” Poe shook his head. “I have to own my choices.”

“You do, but the rest of us don’t?” Finn frowned. He sensed that saying _you’d just been tortured by a monster_ wouldn’t have helped just then, but oh, how he wanted to.

Maybe Poe read it in his expression, because he relented, dropping onto the crate next to Finn. “No,” he admitted. “We all do. Just to varying degrees. Because we _all_ could have done better.”

“Including the leaders.” It felt heretical and dangerous to give voice to such subversion, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already gone further in other ways. “You were right to take out the Dreadnaught. It would have destroyed the fleet.”

“I didn’t know about the hyperspace tracking at the time.”

“Even without it. There was nowhere to hide, at least not for more than a few days. Crait was always a longshot—but it would have given us a better chance if Rose and I hadn’t trusted that kriffing slicer.” And that was the idea he hadn’t been able to shake, the small, cold stone lodged in his chest for the past couple of days. “More of us might still be here…maybe not forever, but long enough to make a difference.”

“You were trying your damnedest to do what we needed, whether it was possible or not. You screwed up by trusting—instead of by doubting, like me.”

Fresh remorse flowed through Finn’s veins. “Desperation isn’t trust. If I’d had any trust for the right reasons, I wouldn’t have met Rose in the first place.” He bent forward, forearms braced on his knees. If he had to look Poe in the eye for this, he wouldn’t get through it. “She caught me trying to take an escape pod to warn Rey. I…I was so sure the fleet was doomed, and the only thing I knew for certain was that I wanted Rey, and you, to survive. But I knew you wouldn’t leave, no matter what. So I wanted to save her.”

Silence met his confession. Eventually, Finn risked a glance up at Poe. His expression hadn’t changed, but somehow the ache behind his warm brown eyes had intensified.

“I get it,” Poe said at last. “You were never under any obligation to follow the Resistance to the bitter, bloody end.”

“But I can _choose_ to, now—and I do. I have. Now that I’ve seen a little more of what’s out there, I understand better. I just—didn’t know yet.” Finn bit his lip. “It still hurts you, though, that I was going to leave. I’m sorry. I wish I…knew how to care about people the right way.”

“You do, though.” A hollow smile flickered across Poe’s features. “There isn’t any ‘right way’ to care about people that protects them from hurting each other. I think maybe you’re already better at it than a lot of us. When you act on instinct, follow your conscience, your aim is true. It was only when you had time to worry and doubt that you grabbed for something out of reach. Me… I might be the opposite.” He released a long sigh, leaning back against the wall. “My instincts haven’t really been working for me anywhere except the cockpit. And we’re low on cockpits right now. Leia wants me to be able to step back and act in the interests of the bigger picture, not just tactically. I don’t feel like I have any clue how to do that, and I don’t think I have any choice but to try anyway. I’ve never been so completely out of my element, and when I screw up, people die. _That’s_ what’s bothering the hell out of me. Not anything you have or haven’t done. I promise.”

Shaky with the relief that he hadn’t just driven a wedge between the two of them, Finn ventured, “Maybe we can balance each other out. If you need help stepping back and I need help stepping up.”

Poe glanced over at him, and this time his smile, while tentative, was genuine. “Maybe so.”

After a few moments of quiet, Finn lifted his gaze toward the starfighter in front of them. “Your mom must have really been something.”

“She was. Not too many people could claim that they’d flown with not only Luke Skywalker but his sister as well. A lot of the original colonists here were Rebellion veterans, and even among them she was kind of a celebrity. My dad used to make her do all the shopping because she always got better deals at the market without even trying.” Poe’s hand rose to his neck, and Finn wondered briefly if he was chasing some lingering soreness. Instead, his fingers toyed with a thin silver chain that disappeared under the collar of his shirt. “She was kind, though, which is what matters. Everybody should have parents like mine.”

As he looked at the ship with a soft wistfulness, Finn was struck by an impulse.

“Can I ask you for something?” When Poe glanced over at him, he continued, “Rose told me something on Crait that I liked but I haven’t been able to completely take in. She said the way for us to win is by saving what we love instead of destroying what we hate. The thing is, the entire concept of love doesn’t even really exist where I grew up. We learned loyalty, but that isn’t the same thing. I get the idea, in theory, but that’s about it. Can you…tell me about growing up here? Can you show me what it is you joined this fight to save?”

Poe took a moment to respond, lost in thought. Finally, he stood up. “Come with me.”

They climbed the rise behind the house, following a path half overgrown with thick vines and ferns. The midday heat hung heavy in the air, and Finn pushed up his sleeves as they hiked.

“Whenever I didn’t have chores, or schoolwork, I was out here,” Poe said, pushing aside a low-hanging vine. “Exploring, pretending, trying to set new altitude records. I fell out of so many trees that my dad bought a home-use bacta generator. I wasn’t much for sitting still. The only places I was happy to just _be_ , without moving on to something else, were up in my mom’s tree…and here.”

When he ducked under the last boughs of foliage and stepped into the clearing, Finn briefly lost whatever words had been swirling in his mind. The river valley was spread out below them, a silvery thread winding through the vibrant greens. He tracked the river’s course back until it vanished into the trees and spotted dozens of small dwellings scattered along both sides. In the distance, he could just barely make out the silhouette of the ancient temple that featured in some of the Rebellion stories his new friends had shared.

Poe gazed out across the expanse, and his bearing seemed to have…eased, somehow. He fit here, belonged here, no matter what the past few days and weeks had thrown at him.

“The year I turned fourteen,” he began, “there was a storm that lasted for five days. The river overflowed its banks on day three. Our farm was fine, because we were on higher ground, but a lot of people in the valley lost their homes. I remember the town coming together almost immediately to help evacuate houses and find families shelter. All kinds of vehicles went out—speeders, watercraft, light shuttles. I went to my dad with this crazy plan to fly Mom’s A-wing low along the water and pull people out who were stranded on their roofs. I figured I could fly slowly enough that they could sit on the engine pods and hang onto the vertical stabilizers long enough to get them to dry land. Dad listened to my strategy, and then asked me one question: ‘How are they going to pull themselves up?’ I said I’d tie ropes to the stabs. He pointed out that the airstream would blow the ropes back into the engine exhaust and burn them up. Then he marched me down to old man Xaden’s house and borrowed his six-seat speeder instead, and we went down to the town center to get assigned a search area, which hadn’t occurred to me.” Belatedly, Poe shook his head with a self-deprecating smirk. “So I guess my track record for having better intent than execution goes back farther than I thought.”

“Did that work, at least?”

“Perfectly. Not a single person died in that flood. The colony’s always been pretty proud of that.” Poe stepped over to a fallen tree and took a seat on its trunk. Finn didn’t hesitate to follow. “When my mom died, half the town practically set up camp in our living room for a while. Took care of everything we could need. A lot of the time, though, what I felt like I needed was space. So I came up here. I thought I was sneaking, like somehow nobody would notice the only eight-year-old for miles suddenly disappearing for hours on end. One time, when I’d been up here for hours, I just started crying because I felt so lonely, and suddenly my _tia_ Elara was just there. That’s when I figured it out. Every time I came up here, one of them would always follow me but hang back, out of sight. They wanted to give me what I needed, and they also wanted to make sure I was right about what I _thought_ I needed—sometimes quiet, sometimes a hug, sometimes a joke. But always love.”

When Poe turned to face Finn, he was composed, offering a small shrug. “It’s not big and flashy, but it’s what I’ve got. These people take care of each other. Not because it’s expected of them, or benefits them, but because it’s kind and right. I want more of the galaxy to be like this place.” He gave a small smile. “That’s it. So I guess Rose was right. That’s why I fight.”

“Then I do too,” Finn replied, without forethought. “Because I want more of the galaxy to be like you.”

Somehow, without intention, he’d surprised Poe Dameron into momentary silence. Doubt shadowed the other man’s face, but he held Finn’s gaze. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I’m not sure I deserve that, but I swear I’ll try my best to earn it.” He laid a hand on Finn’s arm. “We damn sure need more like you, though. Maybe they’re out there, among all those white helmets. In another life, all those troopers—and you—would have had homes like this. _Should_ have had homes like this. If even a few of them are half as incredible as you… _that_ might be how we win the war.”

It was almost too much to take in: Poe’s faith in him, the hope that they could even attempt to reach other troopers…the idea that someday he might be able to have a true home of his own. He knew he couldn’t process it all just then, so he simply stood beside his friend and breathed in his surroundings.

The humid air had tightened Poe’s dark curls, and Finn’s hand itched to reach for them. The sudden, acute sense of longing came as a revelation, and yet not entirely. Maybe this had always been part of what he needed to discover. He knew he wanted to hold onto Rey, and now Rose, to keep them close—but with Poe, though, he also wanted to _touch._

Be open about feelings, Rey had said. Maybe she had the right idea.

Gathering his courage, Finn turned his arm so that Poe’s hand slipped down into his.

“You matter a lot to me,” he said simply. “I’m not really sure what that means yet, but I thought you should know.”

In response, the weary uncertainty in Poe’s gaze melted into something close to relief, or wonder. “Same here,” he answered with an openness that Finn hadn’t seen from him since before Starkiller, the same sincerity that had forged a partnership in a cramped Star Destroyer passageway seemingly a lifetime ago. “I hope we can help each other figure it out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Poe’s comment about leaving his X-wing on Yavin during the Jakku mission is canon as described in the Poe Dameron Flight Log. (Which aligns this story with another one of mine, _Curse the Stars_.)
> 
> Here is my pro-Stormpilot TLJ thesis: Poe put his trust in Finn above just about everything else. Finn thought he could save the fleet and Poe believed in him enough to lose a fair amount of perspective. Can’t get much more devoted than that. Thanks for coming to my TED talk.
> 
> Come flail at me on Tumblr (@sugarspiceandcursewords)!


End file.
